


Ejectment

by ApeUnit



Series: Judge Roebuck [3]
Category: Dredd (2012), Judge Dredd (Comics), Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApeUnit/pseuds/ApeUnit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judge Roebuck faces a Sector in turmoil, as Anti-Mutant sentiment reaches the breaking point... This is the third installment of my Judge Roebuck series, following Judicial Affairs and Serial. It is set in the universe brought to us through DREDD 3D, so picture the uniforms, weapons, equipment, MEGA CITY, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ejectment

Ejectment

 

Sector 288, 19 June 2089

2232 hours:

It was a warm, dry night, as the Fordster Stang coupe pulled to a stop at 111 Gunderson Street. The coupe parked right in front of an office building being used by the MCLU. The Mutant Civil Liberties Union rented office space at this location, their task, to offer legal representation on behalf of the City’s mutant population from discrimination. The door to the vehicle opened suddenly, and a man stepped out. He wore blue jeans, a white tee shirt, and a tan heavy work jacket he had unzipped. He then slammed the door to the vehicle shut and walked around the hood, as he made his way to the building. There was a framing hammer tucked into his waist belt at his back. He paused for a moment before he entered, tucked a baseball bat under his right armpit and pulled a mask over his face. It was a latex clown mask that covered the entire head, a scary clown one he purchased at a costume shop. Then he pulled a pair of latex gloves onto his hands; stretching them out to secure a tight fit.

Once his identity was masked, he continued again. The automatic door to the building opened as he tripped the sensor. It was a seven story building, not a large high-rise office complex. Most of the space had been rented by the MCLU and they often worked late into the night. In the lobby, two young employees of MCLU, a man and woman, talked together. It could be speculated they were involved, but that did not matter to the man. The pair hardly noticed the man enter, they work with mutants all day, strange sights and behavior appeared common to them. Most of the mutants who walked into their offices wore masks, to hide their deformities and avoid being targeted by anti-mutant hate mobs. As two possible lovers, the pair probably paid the man no attention as he crept close.

The swing of the bat collided with the back of office man’s head. He fell to the ground as his body convulsed, as it reacted to the blow. The woman’s eyes reflected sheer terror as she stared back at the eerie smile of the clown. She started to scream as the bat struck her in the head. Her body fell to the ground and lay next to her coworker’s. The man in the clown mask knelt down and placed his bat on the ground. He reached to his back and pulled the frame hammer from his belt. The office man was targeted first. Slowly, he raised the hammer over his head and with a tremendous force, he brought it down. Blow after blow landed on the wounded man’s skull. The blood, bits of skull and brain matter stained the masked man’s clothes as it spattered. Soon, he flipped the hammer head around and struck with the claws. After the masked man was assured his male victim expired, he turned his attention the woman. With an equal ferocity, he repeated the attack. In a short time, he concluded with the woman, and went in search of more victims.

The masked man was on the elevator. He pressed the button the fifth floor; he knew where the staff worked tonight. They did not have a large staff, so his work was not too difficult. The point was to send a message. His mask was covered in blood spatter, the clothes stained red. Blood dripped from the end of the baseball bat and the head of the hammer. The hammer he had tucked back into his belt. The door to the elevator opened. Someone was already waiting when it opened, but not expecting anyone, his attention was focused on a case folder. The masked man swung hard his bat and struck his victim. The victim fell to the floor on their back; the blow caused a wound to the head. Several more swings shattered the victim’s jaw, the eye socket, and then collapsed the entire right side of their face. From there he moved on, to another and then another.

***

MCLU Offices, Sector 288

0633 hours:

Judges Frederick Roebuck and Rhett Marston were the next pair of Justice Department personnel to arrive on the scene. Two freshly minted Judges had already been on the scene and in a panic. Though the victims had been deceased for several hours and the perpetrator nowhere to be seen, the young Judges, not yet accustomed to such violence and gore, insisted substantial reinforcements were necessary before they continued further. Thus, Roebuck and Marston were directed to the scene. Their shift should have ended at 0600, but they were directed to respond because the Day Shift had not concluded roll call. Roebuck and Marston parked their lawmasters outside of the office building and dismounted.

“What the fuck has the newbies so spooked that I gotta work overtime!?” Marston grumbled.

“Got somewhere to be?” Roebuck sarcastically remarked.

“Yeah, daytime special at the Candy Apple strip joint.”

“Oh fuck me,” Roebuck said upon closer examination of the building. “We’ll be lucky if we aren’t stuck here all day.”

“Oh shit, this is that Mutie Rights group HQ, ain’t it?” Marston said, there was disappointment in his voice.

Marston and Roebuck spotted the two inexperienced Judges in the lobby through the glass doors. The frightened Judges braced themselves in cover. One peered around the corner, her lawgiver trained on a nonexistent foe. The other screamed into his radio for additional units. At their feet lay the first two victims. Roebuck walked into the lobby followed closely Marston. They walked over to the deceased victims, almost completely ignoring their overly distressed comrades. Marston bent down to the bodies while Roebuck stood.

“Not my idea of a facial,” Marston joked.

“I’ve heard your definition of a facial, not far off from this,” Roebuck returned.

“You’re sick you know that.”

The two younger Judges gawked in disbelief at Marston and Roebuck. They were prepared for a shootout and expected the murderer to still be at work in the building. Marston turned to address them.

“Y’all are expecting someone?” Marston sarcastically asked. “Because the stiffs have been that way for a few hours and the killer is long gone.”

Marston began to laugh as the younger Judges stood down from their tactical poses. Roebuck opened a channel on the radio to call off the backup and request the crime scene teks. By this time, the response of four Judges to a scene inspired the curiosity in many of the area’s residents. A quickly growing crowd of onlookers gathered outside in the street.

“Why don’t you young-ins head outside and keep the crowd at bay,” Marston ordered. “Surely you two can’t fuck that up.”

The two young Judges nodded in acknowledgement and went outside. They assumed the role of crowd control and backed the onlookers away from the scene. Control responded to Roebuck’s call and dispatched the crime scene teks. Marston stood up and surveyed the area.

“So this is that mutie rights firm?” Marston asked. “Like the one described in the shift briefings from the past week?”

“Yeah,” said Roebuck. “Bunch of volunteer lawyers and paralegals who fight for mutant rights, represent the mutants in court cases, pro bono. Also lobby to let mutants live in the City, to integrate with society.”

“Can’t wait until the City evicts them all, kicks them out into the wastes where they belong.” 

“The mutants would’ve been gone already. But, the MCLU keep tying up the legal system, stalling, lobbying. As long as they file the correct paperwork, they have the right to be heard in court. The City cannot pass a judgment until all arguments have been heard.”

“That’s just wrong. I mean, we want to live in a world where some three armed fuck walks on the same sidewalk as us, eats at our same restaurants. It isn’t right, Roe.”

“You’re very forward thinking.”

“Nothin’ wrong with hating muties.”

Roebuck smirked. He never harbored deep prejudices against mutants, not to Marston’s extant, but he held little sympathy for their plight. To Roebuck, mutants were no different than the criminals he encountered on the job. They all lived in squalor; they stole; committing acts of violence and civil disobedience. He hoped the Justice Department would exile the mutants into the Cursed Earth where they belonged. So, they could be with their own kind, as he viewed it.

The two Judges walked toward a video screen on the lobby’s wall. The display listed a directory for the offices in the building. He noticed most of the listings were marked “for rent” except the fifth floor. The fifth floor appeared to be entirely in use by the MCLU. The realization came to Roebuck, there may be additional victims. Marston soon picked up on Roebuck’s uneasiness.

“What is it?” Marston asked.

“Fifth floor,” Roebuck said.

Marston nodded and walked over to the elevator. He pressed the call button as Roebuck joined him. The doors of the elevator opened and the two Judges stepped in. They did not carry on with their usual unprofessional banter; they prepared themselves for what might be on the fifth floor. As the elevator doors shut and Roebuck moved his hand to push the floor button, he paused. The control panel was covered in smeared blood, from a hand that mashed the lobby floor button. There was a small puddle of blood in the front right corner of the elevator car. Roebuck nudged Marston on the shoulder to get his attention, and then pointed out the gore to his partner. The two looked at each other, though their helmet visors concealed their eyes, and nodded. Each Judge unsnapped the securing strap on their own holster and drew their lawgivers. They kept their weapons pointed at the ground as waited patiently, as the car came to a stop. The level chime sounded and the elevator doors slid opened.

Immediately before their feet, Marston and Roebuck found a third victim. The man lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. His face had been severely mangled, the jaw bones shattered, he was barely recognizable. The two Judges stepped out of the elevator, taking great care to move around the body. They both raised their lawgivers. The elevator opened into a hallway, to their left and on the right side of the hallway was the door to the office. There was an electronic directory immediately across from where the elevator opened; it displayed an arrow directed toward the MCLU office. Roebuck stepped ahead of Marston; he pointed his lawgiver forward in a tactical manor and proceeded. The office door to the MCLU office was opened inward. The office itself was a large open room, with a maze of cubicle walls in its center. Along that back wall were four different glass enclosed personal offices.

Roebuck entered through the door to the office. There was an opening to a cubicle directly in front of him, and woman seated in a chair. The woman was slumped over the desk, her head down on the keyboard. Marston switched on the thermal scanner on his helmet’s visor. After a glance around the office and the surroundings, he determined there was nobody else on the floor.

“Thermal’s clear, we’re alone,” Marston said.

His partner, Roebuck, walked over to the woman at the cubicle. He inspected the body, careful not to disturb it for the crime scene teks. There were dark bruises on her neck; the cause of death appeared to be strangulation. The bruising showed the murderer used a handle or a short bar to choke her to death. Roebuck, speculated the killer snuck up on the victim as she worked at her desk. Marston proceeded past the cubicle to investigate the scene further. The woman’s purse was at her feet, next to the chair. Roebuck knelt down to take a quick look through, to try and find identification. He pushed the top of the purse open and discovered concealed weapons holster inside, for a small personal defense pistol. The holster was empty. He rifled through some more until he found her wallet and pulled out the driver’s license and concealed weapons permit. After a quick examination, he pressed both, face down, to his wrist worn lawscreen to be scanned.

“Hey Roe, over here!” Marston called out.

It was a pathway between the cubicles where Marston stood. There were two more victims, both male staffers of the MCLU that lay dead on the floor. These two victims were separated by about fifteen feet, both with fatal gunshot wounds. At Marston’s feet were six bullet casings, and a small pistol with the slide locked back. Clearly, it had been dropped after all the ammunition was expended. Roebuck walked to Marston. He noticed the pistol on the ground and spotted the bodies.

“Lady over there has an empty holster in her purse,” Roebuck said. “It’s probably hers. Perp must’ve spotted it after he choked her and grabbed it. At least she had a valid conceal carry permit.”

An unusual red spatter caught Marston’s attention. He motioned to Roebuck and they both walked to one of the glass enclosed offices. This was the office on the far right side of the back wall. A plaque on the door read Martha Baylor. She was the director for the MCLU in this Sector. Baylor lay dead on the floor of her office. Her skull had been severely bashed in by several blows from a hammer, as well as wounds from the hammer claws. From the gruesomeness of the attack, it looked like the killer took extra time with Baylor. Roebuck deduced the killer most likely stood over her body and struck it at least fifty times with the hammer. The blood was everywhere in the office, some in large puddles, some in small droplets, but everywhere nonetheless.

“I take it our killer doesn’t care for Muties or their friends,” Marston said. “Can’t say I blame them.”

Roebuck did not say anything back to Marston. He knew the City’s anti-mutant sentiment, but was more indifferent to their plight than opposed to them as a people. Conflict was inevitable and Roebuck understood that humans and mutants could not coexist together. He was a realist and always figured the Council would deport the mutants from the City. It was always a question of “when” over “if”. Control’s broadcast snapped over the radio to inform all units at the MCLU building that crime teks were arriving. Roebuck and Marston decided to head back to the lobby and made their way to elevator, careful not to disturb the scene.

***

When the bombs fell, the world changed. The land transformed into an inhospitable waste, a Cursed Earth. Only the Mega Cities of the world escaped the destruction. The fortunate ones outside the Cities, died instantly in the blast. They would not have to endure a slow, painful death from the cancer, brought on by the fallout. Cancer claimed a majority of the survivors in the Cursed Earth. The worst fate one could suffer was to bear the mark of the Cursed Earth, to be a mutant. The ones who survived the bombs saw their skin start to peel in large sections all over their bodies; they would be badly burned, disfigured, and barely recognizable as humans. The children born to these people suffered numerous defects, some born with extra limbs, eyes, organs, or conjoined. A few developed psychic abilities, and became valued assets to the Justice Departments of the Megs. The Mega Cities were not completely immune to the fallout. Many citizens who lived in the vicinity of the perimeter walls were exposed to large amounts of radiation that blew in from the Cursed Earth. Cancer rates and birth defects were higher among these citizens, though treatment was more readily available.

In the immediate aftermath of the nuclear devastation, Mega City One opened its gates to the flood of refugees. The citizens felt a moral obligation to help the refugees in the early days after the war. The sense of charity soon evaporated when the City’s own problems took precedence. It had been almost twenty years since the bombs fell, since World War III, which only took a few hours to settle. Mega City One’s population swelled to 800 million, twice the number it was designed to accommodate and support. Crime, poverty, and unemployment increased rapidly every day. The mutants became the scapegoats for the misfortunes that befell the Big Meg, though there were only about six million of them in the City. The people of City soon turned against the mutants. Mutants faced discrimination, segregation, and often violence. Some mutants fought back with their own brand of violence and terrorist-style bombings. Thus, the cycle of violence perpetuated. 

After years of violence, the City planned to relocate the mutant population between six sectors in Mega City One. The mutants were told the move was for their safety and protection from hate groups. In reality, the mutants were to be moved into the six worst, most dilapidated Sectors in the entire City. This was a temporary solution, while the Council and the Chief Judge debated the idea of total mutant deportation from Mega City One.

Sector 288 had been selected as a seventh sector for mutant relocation. The Justice Department was in the process of relocating mutants to this Sector, though the current human residents were not at all accepting. There were demonstrations and marches held by enraged citizens that hoped to prevent life alongside mutants. Protesters even formed a human chain to block the buses that ferried the mutants into the Sector, though they were quickly dispersed by riot Judges. The citizens refused give up their homes to the incoming mutants and prepared to fight for their Sector. 

Roebuck and Marston waited inside lobby, next to the bodies, as additional units arrived. The Crime Scene Unit vans pulled up and the Teks emerged, their investigative equipment in hand. The lead Tek was Harold Beane, of average height and quite frail in appearance. He favored his computers and gadgets over confrontations that required lawgiver and daystick. Beane spotted Roebuck and Marston and headed toward the two Judges.

“What do we got here?” Beane asked.

“Seven dead, message killing,” replied Marston. “Somebody knocked some sense into the Mutie lovers.”

Beane knelt next to the two bodies in the lobby. He pulled a short probe from a front pocket on his shirt. With the probe, Beane prodded and inspected the wounds on the two victims, first the deceased male, and then the female. He inspected the wounds carefully, and surmised that two different weapons were used. The probe was planted in the wound on the back of the man’s head when Beane turned to Roebuck and Marston.

“Take a look at these wounds,” he said, as the two Judges leaned in for a closer look. “From what I can deduce, our killer used a blunt instrument, maybe a bat or pipe, to incapacitate our two victims. Once he had them on the ground, he set about to using a hammer. Adding to the brutality, he used the blunt end as well as the claws.”

“So he fucking hates Mutie lovers,” Marston said.

“The rest of the bodies are upstairs on the fifth floor. We’ll secure the scene here,” said Roebuck.

Beane had a delightful look on his face. The examination of the deceased always excited Beane, it was his morbid hobby. The more graphic the scene, the more grisly the murders, the more excited he became. There were times he came under the scrutiny of the psychological review board, but he was good at his job. He was arguably the best Crime Scene Tek in the Northern Meg Sectors, so the psych evaluations were often excused. Beane eagerly rushed to the elevator and motioned to his subordinate Crime Scene Teks. Three were to remain to photograph and collect evidence on the victims in the lobby. The rest were to accompany him to the fifth floor.

Roebuck stepped back and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He knew his involvement in this case would be minimal. This incident, the investigation, would soon become the problem of another. Mutant deportation was a major issue debated amongst the Chief Judges of the Grand Hall of Justice. The previous autumn, budget restrictions and manpower shortages left the under qualified Roebuck as the lead investigator for a series of connected prostitute murders. The prime suspect in the murders, Stanley Bren, was killed in a shootout with Judges. His superiors we quick to have the case closed, though Roebuck was never convinced Bren committed the murders. It did not matter now, the murders ceased after Bren’s death. After all the excitement of his recent serial killer investigation, Roebuck was all to glad to see the unmarked Justice Department sedan arrive on the scene.

It was driven by the investigating Judges of the Major Crimes Bureau. These were the senior Judges, the best of the best, that travelled throughout Mega-City One to investigate the most serious and heinous crimes. They occasionally traveled to the other Mega Cities for joint investigations. The vehicle came to a stop and the four doors opened in unison. Four of the investigating Judges stepped out, and they dressed the part. Their uniforms radiated that sharp Judicial blue. The helmets were polished and badges freshly shined. Each had their own menagerie of epaulets, pins, and medals displayed as a testament to their service. Their appearance could be perceived as almost comical if not for their reputation. These Judges were good at what they did, a ninety six percent closure rate. The only problem with the Major Crimes Bureau was the size; only seventeen Judges comprised the unit. In a city of 800 million, they could only be assigned to top cases.

Roebuck observed the large crowd that gathered in the street in front of the offices. The people in the crowd looked disfigured, grotesque. Faces that looked melted like someone held a plastic figure to an open flame. There were some limbs fused to their bodies, others with the odd extra appendage. They all looked ratted, destitute, a collection of once human detritus. Roebuck knew what they were; mutants. The mutants that gathered did not appear too happy. The offices were occupied by the only individuals in Mega City One that stood up for their rights. It was apparent what transpired inside, between that large Judicial presence and the medics carrying multiple gurneys inside with body bags.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THERE!?” A mutant shouted. “We have a right to know.”

One of the young Judges, who earlier called in the murders and cowered in the lobby, wanted to save face and his image in front of his peers. He stepped up to the mutant who shouted. With a quick thrust, he jabbed the mutant right in the ribcage with his daystick.

“Shut your fucking mouth, mutie!” the young Judge shouted.

The rage of the crowd was almost palpable. They were incensed by the young Judge’s action and whipped into a furry. As the injured mutie fell to the ground, several others reached forward and grabbed onto the young Judge. They were trying to pull him away from the area cleared for the scene and into the mob. Roebuck and Marston both watched the events unfold. Roebuck looked to Marston, who nodded back.

“GAS!” Marston shouted out loud, in the direction of the Judges and medical personnel near the building.

In an instant the Judicial Personnel scrambled to pull their respirators from the pouches of their belts and put them on. Roebuck secured his mask and detached a Stumm Gas grenade from his belt, as did Marston. They hurled the grenades into the crowed, near the distressed young Judge. The grenades burst apart and filled the air with choking vapors that brought nausea and unconsciousness. This allowed unconscious rioters to be easily carried away by arresting Judges.

The area was engulfed in a thick and blinding smoke. All around, the sounds of coughing and gasping for air echoed around the scene. Roebuck and Marston ventured into the fog, their daysticks in hand and at the ready. They located the young Judge, the one responsible for this mess. The mutants who grabbed him retreated, though the slower ones lay on the ground to his sides. The young Judge gasped for breath, as he thrashed about in vain to get his respirator on. Roebuck and Marston thought it only fair the young Judge succumb to the effects of the gas rather than help him secure the respirator. They each grabbed a hold of his vest with one hand and pulled the young Judge away toward a med wagon.

“Fuckin’ Rookies,” Marston said condescendingly.

The crowd of mutants had dispersed and the street was mostly clear now. The only mutants that remained were the ones who succumbed to the gas. Dozens lay on ground, some coughed violently, and others unconscious. Roebuck and Marston had reached the med wagon, a medic rushed to tend to the gassed young Judge. Marston stood upright, arched his back to stretch it out as Roebuck sat back against the side of the med wagon in exhaustion. The other Judges who were at the scene took up positions around the Justice Department vehicles, ready to repulse another onslaught from an enraged mob.

“Control to any unit at 111 Gunderson Street.” The radio buzzed to every Judge in the Sector. “Reports of rioting and civilian unrest at your location. Please update. Do you require riot squad assistance?”

“That’s a negative on the riot squad,” Marston replied over the radio. “Situation is under control. Report of thirty plus muties down from Stumm Gas. Send some extra Judges and catch wagons though, my Gruddamn shift ended two hours ago.”

“There is to be no usage of profanity on official channels!”

“Yeah yeah, fuck you too,” Marston said, though after switching off his comm.

It was not long before the sirens of approaching lawmasters filled the air. Additional Judges arrived on the scene, followed closely by news vans and reporters. Roebuck and Marston had enough excitement and looked forward to being released from duty for the day. Reporters set up their camera equipment, as Judges cuffed the unconscious mutants and dragged them toward awaiting catch wagons. Finally, Roebuck and Marston received their clearance from Control and headed back to the Sector House. 

***

Sector House 288

1545 hours:

Roebuck was asleep in one of the bunks in the Sector House. The time had finished his shift report, it was almost noon. He had made his way to the bunkroom of the Sector House and fell right to sleep; not even taking time to remove his uniform or Kevlar jacket. Now, he felt a hard jab that instantly awoke him. Through the haze of his exhausted eyes he saw Marston. Marston shoved Roebuck’s helmet into the Judge’s bunk.

“All hell is breaking loose out there, Roe,” Marston said. “Chief is gathering everyone in the briefing hall.”

“Shit, what time is it? I’m fucking tired,” Roebuck replied.

“15:45, hope you got some sleep. It’s a real shit show out there.”

“How bad?” Roebuck asked, as he reluctantly sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“They’re pulling the desk jocks and lab teks. Issuing them vests and side arms. That bad.”

Roebuck stood up, a little lightheaded from the lack of sleep. Other Judges in the bunkroom scrambled to get dressed and check their equipment. Marston led the way as Roebuck followed him to the briefing hall. This was where all the pre-shift briefings were held. The room was a large convex lecture hall, which centered on the Watch Commander. The hall could seat 250 Judges, the full compliment for a shift. However, the Department could only field about 75 Judges per shift in this Sector. Today, as Roebuck entered, the hall was packed. Almost all of the 749 personnel assigned to Sector 288 were in attendance, the only ones absent were the ones currently on patrol or on the injury roll. The Sector Chief, Katherine Grossman, stood in front of a large screen at the front of the hall. All around there was a mix of the disgruntled Street Judges, called in on their time off, and the uneasy support Judges pressed into service, nervous because they seldom were sent into hostile situations. There was only room left to stand in the hall, as personnel crowed the aisles and some found seats where they could. Marston and Roebuck pushed they way inside and headed toward their usual seats in the back of hall they occupied during their daily roll call. Two newer Judges with less seniority occupied the seats. These two were subjected to scowls by Roebuck and Marston until they finally got up and relinquished the seats. Marston and Roebuck both sat down. All eyes were now fixed on the Sector Chief, as Grossman began the briefing.

“At 13:52 hours, the bodies of Morris Dunn, age 17, and Marta Lamb, age 15, were found in an alley off of Bennington Street. As many of you know, this is in the heart of the Mutant Settlement Zone. Our victims, both non-mutants, were students of Manning High School. School rolls mark them as present at 07:45, but truant at approximately 11:00 hours. The media has been all over the story, claiming it was a mutant revenge killing for this morning’s discovery at the advocacy group’s offices. They’re running all sorts of outrageous stories; they’re whipping everyone into a frenzy. Citi-Def Quartermasters in several Blocks are reporting assault weapons missing from armories. Angry citizens are organizing a protest march on the Mutant Zone…”

“You really buy that?” Roebuck leaned over and said to Marston. “Revenge killing, sounds more like two love birds ditch school in an effort to score some slo-mo.”

Marston just shook his head; agreeing with Roebuck. The screen behind Grossman changed its display from the crime scene photos of the victims to a map of Sector 288. The map displayed an outline around the Mutant Settlement Zone within 288. It was the master plan from the Grand Hall to move and confine the City’s entire mutant population to Sector 288 and six surrounding Sectors where they could live peacefully, albeit segregated from the rest of the Big Meg. In the process, the human population would, hopefully, be peacefully moved out. The map of the Sector began to flash in several strategic areas. Chief Grossman then continued.

“You are all to report to your immediate supervisor who will assign you to critical locations throughout the Sector. The purpose of this deployment is a show of force. We will show the Cits that the Justice Department is in control of the streets. A public curfew will go into full effect at 20:00. Lethal force is authorized to suppress any citizen who attempts to harm a mutant or fails to obey an order to disarm. I want a quiet night out there, now let’s get to it.”

The Chief ended her speech and the assembled Judges began to disperse. Roebuck and Marston both stood up. As Judges exited, they headed toward the Sector House’s garage and the motor pool. The roar of motors from the lawmasters echoed through the garage as Judges gunned their bikes and took off. Roebuck raced up the ramp that connected the underground garage to street level; Marston by his side. The late afternoon reflected from the windows of the nearby buildings. In the distance, smoke rose in several plumes. The armada of Judges travelled down the boulevard away from the Sector House and in the direction of the mutant zones. The Judges were relayed instructions over their bike computers about which locations needed their response. And so, the procession made its way down the boulevard, each intersection saw more and more Judges veer off. Roebuck and Marston had been assigned reserve duty. Essentially, they would respond to any Judges that called for assistance or were in danger of being overrun. Though they had their assignment, the pair knew where they were headed.

“Control this is Marston,” he began. “Show Judge Roebuck and myself investigating civil unrest at the corner of 118th and Gittings Avenue.”

“That’s a Roj!” the voice from Control returned.

Of course that was a false location; Roebuck and Marston were headed in the opposite direction. The two switched off their radios, lawscreens, and bike computers. This made it difficult for Control to track down their whereabouts. And with the added chaos of civil disorder, it would take some time to find the two. They traveled several blocks, the streets were oddly quiet. The streets were never this quiet; there were always cits out and about. Not today. They sought shelter beneath an undersked and powered down their lawmasters. Roebuck removed his helmet and turned to Marston.

“We sure it was him?” Roebuck asked, but already knowing the answer.

“Couldn’t have been anyone else,” Marston answered.

“Now, we’re sure we want to do this?”

“Creep broke the rules when he killed the two kids. It’s up to us to send a message. Creeps need to learn they can’t go around wasting kids. Then all this riot shit going on could be avoided.”

“Oh I agree with you on that, Rhett,” Roebuck started. “There’ll be a lot of pissed off Judges in this Sector once we waste this guy. He is a good source of income.”

Marston just smiled and nodded to Roebuck. Roebuck shook his head in a bit of frustration and pulled a small vid-phone from a compartment on his lawmaster. He kept the video off, it was best neither one on the call saw the other. He dialed the number from memory, always from memory in the event the Special Judicial Service ever confiscated the phone. The phone had been modified, so the number was hidden and the call could neither be traced nor monitored. After several moments the call was answered on the other end.

“Hey asshole!” Roebuck began, his thoughts collected. “We have to meet. Vice Squad is planning in move on your operation, today.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” the voice angrily responded. “Half the Sector is tearing itself apart! There’s no way Vice is planning a raid today. Shit’s a little bad out there, so I think I’ll stay low today.”

Marston sat sideways on his lawmaster. His left leg balanced himself and the bike while he had his right leg up and rested on the frame. Roebuck paced around while he spoke on the phone. It was not a nervous habit to do this, just something he did when he spoke on a phone.

“What better day for those fucks over at Vice to conduct a raid!?” Roebuck started. “All that pandemonium, who will notice a few more bodies? Instead of filling Cube space, they might forgo arrests and ship you guys straight to Resyk. We’re all looking to cut costs someway. Now, how about the usual place?”

“Fuck you man…fine I’ll be there in twenty. You be there,” the voice said.

The man on the other end of the call abruptly hung up. Roebuck grinned as he packed the vid-phone away into the lawmaster’s compartment. He quickly put his helmet back on and mounted his lawmaster. They could both see several plumes of smoke rise in the distance. The plumes seemed to rise from every direction.

“Looks like the fun is starting,” said Roebuck. “Don’t want to miss out on too much.”

“We’ll take care of this creep first,” Marston responded, harshly, as he moved and mounted his lawmaster.

The two Judges revved the engines on their lawmasters and took off down the streets. They flew down a busy avenue. All around, citizens took advantage of the hectic situation to loot the local electronic shops and other stores. These citizens were at first panicked to see Judges Roebuck and Marston appear and then in disbelief when they did not stop to make arrests. No, the pair had an appointment they needed to make. They could not stop for any distractions, though Roebuck made a mental note to return to this area. If any looters stuck around, Roebuck would get back to them.

***

Mutietown, Sector 288

1800 hours:

The building was three stories tall. The brick building material showed it dated from before the Atomic War of 2070. The first floor, which once hosted shops, was boarded up and vacant. The two upper floors were apartments at one time. The building sat on the street corner and to its left was a vacant lot and behind, there was an alley. It sat in heart of Mutietown. Mutietown is what some had taken to calling this area of the Sector where the mutants had started moving in. Of course, only the worst slums of an already impoverished Sector were reserved for the mutants.

His name was Senor Lopez, and he was the one the Judges were to meet. Lopez was a mutant and he controlled the drug trafficking in all of Sector 288. When the mutants started to move in, a few Judges in this Sector decided to monopolize Senor Lopez’s operation. They kept the other cartels and mob organizations of the Big Meg out of the Sector. As a result, drug violence was down, Lopez could operate with impunity, and the few Judges received monetary contributions for their efforts. Senor Lopez, a child at the time of the Atomic War, he reflected the toll of the radiation. He was seven feet tall, his skin was oily and covered in severe radiation burns. Two additional arms had grown, though they were not functional and were hidden under his long overcoat. He did find it difficult to conceal the six fingers on each hand.

Senor Lopez stood in the alleyway behind the abandoned building. This was the usual spot where Judges would meet with Lopez to exchange information or receive payments. Lopez stood in front of his luxury Audier Roadster and smoked a cigarette, a henchman to his left. The Judges always harassed Lopez about driving his flashiest car, concerned it might attract unwanted attention, but he never bothered to care. Roebuck and Marston drove their lawmasters into the opposite end of the alley and faced Lopez. They both powered down their bikes and dismounted. Lopez stood with a crooked smile on his face, just visible beneath his penciled on pencil mustache. The two Judges walked toward Lopez and the meet.

Roebuck stopped when they were only ten yards away and quickly drew his lawgiver. He had already preselected the standard execution round, took aim, and fired. The 10mm round fatally struck the henchman in the forehead. The exploding skull sprayed Senor Lopez with blood and bits of brain matter. Lopez recoiled in disgust and terror, unable to immediately comprehend what had happened. Marston knew his part and trained his lawgiver on Lopez. He fired a standard execution round that purposely struck Lopez in the kneecap. With the desired effect, Lopez fell to the ground screaming. Marston moved swiftly to Lopez, his lawgiver holstered and daystick drawn. Roebuck followed, as he holstered his lawgiver and went for his daystick.

“WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!” Lopez screamed as he clenched at his wound.

“What was one of the ground rules we established Lopez!?” Marston yelled as he planted his boot on Lopez’s bleeding knee. 

“MADRE FUCKING GRUD!” Lopez yelled in agony. “I DO KNOW! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT!? I PAY UP SENORS, MAKE YOU RICJ? MORE DINERO?”

“We never cared who you sold to,” Marston said, his rage boiled to the surface. “Sell to the juves, we never cared. BUT NO FUCKING KILLING JUVES!”

Marston turned his ankle on the wound. This caused Lopez to let out a blood curdling screech. Marston turned and motioned to Roebuck for help lifting their victim. Roebuck and Marston lifted Lopez up and onto the hood of his Roadster. They sat their victim upright and continued.

“Those two juves from earlier today,” Marston began again. “The ones all over the news. Killing them has everybody all out of sorts, rioting, looting, the works.”

“I swear…I swear it’s not…like that,” Lopez struggled to say. “I know we…come to you guys…with our issues…but this time…well, it was them try to rip us. Juve chico and chica come to buy from one of my guys…he shows the product…instead of payment…they flash pistols and shoot my dealer.”

“Are you serious?” Roebuck interrupted. “Why didn’t you call us?”

“Well…his brother was there…and not thinking…he shoots back and kills them,” Lopez answered.

Marston released his grip on Lopez and stepped back for a minute. He nodded to Roebuck, who pulled a packet of cigarettes from his duty belt. Roebuck handed a cigarette to Lopez and kept one for his own use. Then, he held up a lighter to first light Lopez’s cigarette and then his own. Lopez took a long drag on the cigarette. He leaned back and enjoyed the puff, recognizing this was the rare real tobacco and not the synthetic kind. That crooked smile returned to Lopez’s face. Marston swung his body around at Lopez. The daystick struck Lopez in the head and he fell to the ground. Blow after blow from the daystick struck Lopez on the head as the beating continued. Roebuck casually watched, as he smoked his cigarette.

Marston let all his rage out on Lopez’s body. He alternated between blows from the daystick and kicks from his boot. Lopez convulsed from the trauma, as his nerves responded to the beating. It was not long before he was dead. Marston took a step back to examine his work.

“Better?” Roebuck asked rhetorically.

Senor Lopez’s face was barely recognizable. His lifeless body lay in the alley with a pool of blood that slowly expanded. The beating had been truly savage, as Marston had held nothing back. Roebuck figured his partner did not like mutants. Marston ignored Roebuck’s wisecrack and they headed back toward the lawmasters.

Once they were several blocks away from the scene, Roebuck and Marston switched all their communications equipment back on. The main Judicial channel was barely understandable, as Judge after Judge reported their dire situation or panicked as they felt they were about to be overrun. Marston saw they had a direct message on the bike computer to contact Control immediately. He flipped to a secondary channel in order to avoid the pandemonium on the main.

“Control this is Marston,” he started.

“Control here!” the voice over the radio squawked. “Is Judge Roebuck with you? Where have you two been!?”

“Deescalating a civil disturbance. I guess we were in a radio dead zone, our comms have been acting funny. Situation contained, by the way. And Roebuck is with me.”

“That’s a Roj. Currently, all deployments in the Sector are in danger of being overrun. Sector Chief has given the order for all Judges to redeploy in three zones of concentration. We’ll wait for additional Judges from neighboring Sectors to arrive before we begin our push.”

“Copy that Control…Where do you need us?”

“We’re sending Judges to concentrate at the Sector House, the crime scene at the MCLU Building, or the Sector MedCenter. Which are you headed to?”

Marston had to think about it for a minute. Roebuck knew that this was not good. Usually the Judges had the upper hand, but clearly they were losing control of the streets. Control was still waiting for its answer.

“We’re headed toward the MCLU Building,” Roebuck answered. “It’s the closest location.”

“That’s a Roj,” Control responded.

“Control, this is Roebuck, any information from Spy-In-The-Sky as to any hostiles we may encounter on our way to the MCLU Building.”

“Negative at this time. The mobs have been targeting our drones and shooting them down. Currently, we are waiting for a new squadron to be flown in. E.T.A. four hours. Any additional?”

“Negative control, we’ll manage. Roebuck out.”

Ahead Roebuck and Marston could see a crowd of citizens gathered around a street lamp at the entrance to Paradise Valley Block. From the street lamp, the crowd had hanged a mutant and set the body afire, as their victim strangled to death. The crowd cheered and threw things at the dying mutant. The two Judges came to a stop to survey the crowd. The crowd was so preoccupied they failed to notice the Judges. After a few moments, Roebuck and Marston decided to continue on without intervention. Their duty was to protect and serve the citizens of Mega City One; they did not see mutants as citizens.

They approached the on ramp to the main Sector mega way. This highway was the main route of travel across Sector 288. Roebuck spotted the congestion. A mass of cars crowded around the ramp; citizens all desperate to flee the violence in the Sector. Some cars where abandoned, as motorists had taken to foot. Other motorists honked their horns hoping, though futile, that the vehicles in their path would move. In their impatience, the motorists created an impasse on the ramp as they tried to push other cars out of the way, theirs in turn became stuck. Even with the maneuverability of the lawmasters, Roebuck and Marston figured they could not use the highways now. The surface streets would have to suffice as their means of transit. Luckily, it was only a few city blocks to the MCLU Building.

Roebuck and Marston edged their lawmasters between the front and back of the cars in the line before they took off down an alley. They gunned their motors and were quickly out from behind a row of buildings and onto a main avenue. The scenes of the day’s chaos were all around. The shops on either side of the streets had their windows smashed. If they sold any products of value, the mob had surely relieved them of these items. Cars were overturned in the street; others had been set on fire. They could see bodies as well. Many were riddled with bullet holes. It was clear the citizens had access to some serious firepower, assault rifles and other automatic weapons.

They turned left at an intersection and knew they were not far from the destination. That is when they were met by a burst of automatic fire. The sudden firing caught Roebuck and Marston off guard. Roebuck was startled and in his haste to turn his lawmaster, he fell. He slid with his lawmaster on his left side into the back of a bullet ridden car. Marston was on the opposite side of street and found cover against the brick façade of a building. The shooter was directly above Marston and concentrated his fire on the car where Roebuck slid. Roebuck was lucky, sliding brought him into cover and the car shielded him from the hail of gunfire.

“Hey Roe, you alright?” Marston said over the radio.

“Yeah, I think so,” was Roebuck’s reply.

He took a moment to comprehend what happened. The bike was heavy and crushing his left leg. The leg had been dragged hard along the ground, Roebuck had been traveling quite fast when he fell. The pain started to hit him, almost unbearable.

“I can’t see him. How about from your position?” Marston said.

“I can’t see a damn thing from where I am,” said Roebuck. “This damn bike is crushing my leg.”

“Shit man, how bad are you hurt? Can you move?”

“I don’t know.”

Roebuck put his arms around the seat of the lawmaster and tried to lift the bike. It was tough and he was at a bad angle. He exerted as much force as he could muster and pushed the bike upward. Slowly, he slid his injured leg free and clear. Now, Roebuck could examine his injuries. His pants leg was torn up and bloodied. He saw gashes on his leg through the tears in the pants. There was also a large bulge on his shin, where his leg was broken.

“Talk to me buddy, what’s happening?” Marston asked in a frantic tone.

“I’m free now, but it’s broken, I think,” he replied.

The firing had ceased for the moment. The shooter had to stop and reload. Roebuck put a hand up and grabbed the bottom edge of the car’s smashed out driver’s side window. With that as a crutch, he pulled himself up a bit to get a glimpse of the shooter. Roebuck spotted the man, as he fumbled around to reload his automatic weapon. After he saw all that he needed to, he let go of the window and fell back onto the ground. The fall sent a shock of pain through Roebuck’s body, as he inadvertently jolted his injured leg.

“He’s directly above you, Rhett,” Roebuck spoke. “The window directly above you. He’s reloading right now, having a hard time at it. Not an experienced shooter.”

Marston wasted no time and moved from cover. He set his lawgiver to high explosive ammunition as he moved. Now, Marston was in the street and exposed, the lawgiver trained on the window Roebuck had pointed out. Marston pulled the trigger and the weapon fired one high explosive round into the window. The building shook as the round detonated. An explosive fireball engulfed the room where the shooter had been and debris fell onto the street. Marston had to sprint for cover to avoid being struck by the rubble. All that had remained was a circular opening of blasted rockcrete where the window and shooter once were.

Roebuck pulled his helmet off. He was sweating so much from the summer heat and adrenaline. Marston hurried across the street to check on his partner.

“Jovis! Roebuck, you look like shit,” Marston said.

“Well, thanks! You don’t look so bad yourself,” Roebuck quipped.

“Do you think you can walk?”

Roebuck silently shook his head in the negative connotation. The seriousness of the situation was apparent in Roebuck’s eyes. Here they were, cut off from friendly units and surrounded by hostile individuals. His lawmaster was damaged and inoperable; he was in no condition to ride anyway. He also could not walk, not without help. Roebuck could try to persuade Marston to leave him, to try and get to safety. But that was futile; he knew Marston would not abandon his partner.

“Control this is Marston,” he said over the radio.

“Copy that Judge Marston, this is Control,” the voice on the radio replied.

“Control, I have a Judge down at my location. His leg is broken and I don’t think he can move. Any chance of an airlift recovery?”

“Roj on the injured Judge. Would you like to declare a Code 99?”

“Negative on the 99, perp has been subdued. What about that airlift?”

“We don’t have any air units in the area. We’re stretched pretty thin here. I’m sorry; you’ll have to get to cover until we can coordinate something.”

“Copy that Control, out.”

Marston put his arm around Roebuck in preparation to lift him up. He wrapped Roebuck’s left arm around his shoulder and braced his right arm across his partner’s back.

“Sorry about this bud,” Marston said. “This will hurt a bit.”

From a kneeling position, Marston stood up and lifted Roebuck to his feet. Roebuck let out a groan from the pain in his leg. Marston quickly surveyed the area as to where they would limp to cover.

“HEY THERE!” a voice shouted from down the street. “Looks like some cripple Judges.”

Marston turned his head and looked back over his left shoulder. He saw three armed men approaching. They had their assault rifles held at the hip and pointed toward the Judges. The three men were all dressed in fatigues and kit of the Citizen Defense units, the City’s citizen militia. The Citi-Defs were the ones supposed to be standing with the Judges to help quell the civil disturbance. Now, they pointed their rifles at the Judges, prepared to open fire. Without warning, a vehicle burst through a brick wall to the right of the three Citi-Defs. This was an armored Justice Department wagon used for tactical situations. The armored wagon had six wheels, three on each side, a slanted front, machine gun turret on top, and the dark blue Justice Department paint scheme. It crashed through the wall blindly and at top speed. The driver was clearly in a hurry, the wall no obstacle. The armored wagon turned on its wheels and drifted. The three Citi-Defs had no time to get out of the way or even react. They were all crushed to death under the wheels of the armored wagon, as it turned to its right and then picked up speed. Almost on top of the two Judges, the wagon came to a sudden halt when the driver spotted Marston and Roebuck. The hatch above the driver opened and a Judge pulled herself up.

“Jenkins, Personnel Division, boy are we glad to see you,” the woman said.

“Hey, thanks for the save,” Marston said. “Give us a lift?”

The left side door to the wagon opened and another Judge stepped out. This Judge wore the insignia of the Medical Division. Marston was able to breathe a sigh of relief that Roebuck could get immediate medical attention. The Med Judge took Roebuck by the other side, and he and Marston carefully lifted him into the protection of the wagon. Marston was last in and shut the door. The wagon took off at a high speed. The speed was probably not recommended for a vehicle of this size on these streets. The Judge driving was from the Personnel Division, so she mostly handled paperwork and human resource issues within the Justice Department. She was not at all accustomed to field work.

The Med Judge examined Roebuck’s leg and went to work to treat the wounds. He applied a medical gel to the open wounds in order to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. Marston took a quick look at the others in the wagon. There was the driver from Personnel, as well as the medic. Another Judge, from Personnel most likely, nervously sat behind the unoccupied passenger seat and clenched his Judicial issued assault rifle in his arms. His badge said “Starkey.” A Tek Judge stood above everyone and manned the machine gun turret. Seated together in the rear of the vehicle, purposely away from the rest, were two Judges from the Special Judicial Service. Roebuck and Marston each instantly recognized the SJS Judges, from previous run-ins over past indiscretions. The SJS Judges must have also recognized Roebuck and Marston.

“You mind?” Marston said to the nervous Personnel Judge.

Marston stretched out his hand pulled the assault rifle away from the nervous Judge. He was all too eager to see it go to someone who could properly defend everyone. Marston also held out his hand, as the Personnel Judge handed over the all the ammunition magazines in his possession. One of the SJS Judges gave a scowl, as Marston took the weapon.

The wagon bounced and jolted, as it raced down the streets and ran over any obstruction in its path. Occasionally, the Tek Judge manning the turret would let out a burst of rapid fire; a few spent casings fell into the interior compartment. The rough ride gave the Med Judge a difficult time, as he fitted a splint to Roebuck’s leg. Roebuck clenched from the pain of his leg being set.

“Sorry, this’ll hurt a bit,” the Med Judge said.

Most of the Med Judge’s medical supplies had been expended or lost. He had to make do with whatever items he could find. The last of his medical gel he used to seal Roebuck’s wounds. The Med Judge took the daysticks from both Roebuck and Marston to immobilize the leg. There was a wrapped up cargo strap in the wagon the Med Judge requisitioned and used it to bind everything on the leg to keep it still. It was not ideal, but it seemed to hold.

***

MCLU Offices, Sector 288

2030 hours:

There was already a large contingent of Judges here as part of the investigation. Logically, it was selected as one of the rally points when Chief Grossman ordered the Sector-wide tactical withdrawal. When the Judges on the scene received the order to fortify the position they immediately set to work. They hastily constructed defensive barriers with overturned vehicles and any other debris they could find. Soon after, groups of Judges started to arrive and reinforced the position. They were followed closely by a mob of hostile individuals. It was not clear if the mob was mutant or human, it did not exactly matter. The hostiles took up position around the MCLU Building and opened fire. These hostiles were well armed, whoever they were. They brought a wide variety of automatic weapons, machine guns, and even a few rockets. The Judges inside were holding.

The armored wagon approached the MCLU Building. Those inside could hear the metal popping sounds, as rounds deflected off of the armored hull. The Tek Judge opened up with the turret and did not seem to cease fire. Gunderson Street, as it approached the MCLU Building, was a wide avenue that offered a clear shot at the wagon. There was a makeshift roadblock ahead that several combatants had erected to stop any reinforcements from reaching the beleaguered Judges.

“Oh Shit!” Jenkins shrieked. “Roadblock ahead, what do we do?”

“Ram it!” Marston said, as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Run those fuckers over!”

Jenkins floored the gas pedal and the wagon sped toward the roadblock. The Tek Judge climbed down from the turret and into a seat. Marston put on his seatbelt as well, as the Med Judge tried his best to secure Roebuck. The combatants at the roadblock opened fire with everything they had. Mostly, it was small arms that could not damage the vehicle. They had anticipated Judges on lawmasters, not the armored beast that approached at top speed. There was nothing they could do to stop it and they fled.

The armored wagon hit the barrier with tremendous force. The impact threw the contents of the wagon’s interior, not secured, in every direction. They were soon clear and within sight of the MCLU Building. Marston immediately got on the radio.

“This is Judge Marston,” he began. “We’re in the A-Wagon on Gunderson, approaching your position from the south. We should be in visual range.”

“That’s a Roj,” a voice replied over the radio. “We’ll provide cover.”

“Affirmative. Also, be advised we have wounded on board.”

“Copy your last.”

The Judges on the upper floor of the building opened up with a suppression fire to keep all the hostiles away as the wagon arrived and unloaded. Jenkins drove the wagon and positioned it where the left side door was parallel with the entrance of the building. A contingent of five Judges armed with the Judicial M-88 Assault Rifles ran out from the building. They fired at the few emboldened, or foolish, hostiles that attempted to rush toward the armored wagon. The armed Judges killed every single oncoming attacker with the famed Justice Department precision.

Personnel Judge Starkey flung the heavy door to the wagon open and stepped out. He quickly dashed to the safety of the building. Once the area had been relatively secured, one of the armed Judges motioned with his hand. At once, two Med Judges with a stretcher made their way to the wagon and climbed inside. As they and the other Med Judge previously in the wagon readied to transport Roebuck, the two SJS Judges and the Tek Judge climbed out and made for the building. Marston nodded to Jenkins that it was her turn and she made her way to the cover of the building. He took the assault rifle and went to check on Roebuck.

The Med Judges carefully lifted Roebuck onto the stretcher. With some careful maneuvering, they were able to turn the stretcher and get it through the wagon’s side door. Marston was the last to exit. He ran to side of his injured friend and then turned to provide suppression fire. Marston and the other Judges fell back, firing their assault rifles as they did, to the safety of the MCLU Building.

The glass windows in the lobby had all been shot out. Everywhere, chairs, tables, desks, just about everything had been piled up to create a barricade. Marston followed the Med Judges up a stair well to the third floor, where the casualties had been concentrated. The stairwell opened to a large open room that contained a maze of cubicles. The desks in the cubicles had been turned into makeshift hospital beds. Along the walls and interspersed among the cubicles were wounded Judges, civilians, and the Citi-Defs who reported when called by the Justice Department.

The Med Judges set Roebuck down and propped him up against the wall. As they were needed elsewhere, the Med Judges quickly disappeared. Marston wanted to stay with his friend, but he was ordered to aid in defense of the position. Before too long, another Med Judge appeared to work on Roebuck’s leg. The Med Judge removed the makeshift splint and encased Roebuck’s leg in a wrap designed to properly immobilize the broken limb. Roebuck did not enjoy the feeling of helplessness. It was never like him to sit out of a fight. His leg was broken and bandaged tightly. He knew he would be no good to anybody. The thought of just having to sit here among the wounded sickened him. There must be something he could do.

Around him were the day’s wounded. Roebuck noticed there were a large number of civilians. The civilians who chose to stay out of the violence and sought refuge with the Judges when they fell back to this building. Now, it seemed like the Judges were barely holding on to the position. Roebuck wanted a better idea of what was happening. He noticed the man laying on the floor next him had a crutch, but showed no signs of consciousness. Roebuck figured it would be alright if he borrowed the crutch for a while.

The hallways were scenes of chaos, Judges and Citi-Defs ran toward areas under attack while the wounded filed away in the opposite direction. Roebuck limped with the crutch along the side of the wall to not only stay out of the way, but also to avoid being knocked over. He found a Judge who did not look too busy. As he went to get her attention, Roebuck recognized her as Sofia Azarola, the rookie Judge he trained a few months back.

“Azarola!” Roebuck said, a bit surprised to find her.

“Well, don’t you look like hell, Roe,” Azarola responded, as she smiled. “What the hell happened?”

“Fell off of the bike. Guess I still need the training wheels…So what’s going on? I’ve never seen the shit this crazy before.”

“Fuck, where the hell have you been all day?”

“Marston and I were across the Sector,” Roebuck lied. “Stumbled to this part of town and suddenly came under fire.”

“Cits have gone batshit over the two kids the muties killed,” Azarola continued. “A bunch of Citi-Defs from several blocks raided their armories, practically armed a mob, and went into the mutie zones. Just about wiped out every mutie in this Sector, at least that’s what the initial estimates report. They think we’re harboring muties in here and are determined to fight their way in and wipe ‘em out, us in the process.”

They were interrupted by a tremendous crash that shook the entire building. It sounded like a very large rocket impacted on their level. The lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling. The fire alarm blared loudly. A voice could be heard as it cursed the noise and called for someone to silence the alarm. A Citi-Def hurried down the hall and mistakenly bumped into Roebuck and knocked him off balance. Azarola turned and let out an arm to catch him before he fell.

“Careful,” Azarola said. “As much as I enjoy our talks, I fear after that, I am needed somewhere. Is there anything I can get you?”

Roebuck shook his head, as Azarola smiled and made her way down the hallway. The traffic in the hallway had increased. It was said that the angry hostiles outside had mounted a full on offensive against the building. They had opened fire with everything they had and charged in large numbers. Roebuck limped forward through the hallway, in the direction of the recent blast. He found a door that led to a corner office, or what was left of it. The rocket had blasted a large hole in the corner of the building where Roebuck now stood. Through the rubble and exposed rebar he could see straight to the street below.

On the street, a mass of hostiles surged forward. Roebuck turned back and happened to see a Citi-Def with a squad automatic weapon pass by. He motioned to the Citi-Def to set up his weapon at this position. As the Citi-Def turned to acknowledge Roebuck, a stray round fired from the street struck him in the left cheek. The bullet killed him instantly, as it blew out his jawbone and sprayed everyone in the vicinity with blood. Roebuck reached out and grabbed the weapon before the lifeless Citi-Def fell to the ground. He took a moment to rifle through the kit of the fallen Citi-Def for ammunition for the weapon. It Judicial M-117 Squad Automatic Weapon, or Buzzsaw, as it was affectionately referred, fired belt fed 5.56mm ammunition at a rate of 800 rounds per minute. It was perfect for the task that now lay before Roebuck. 

Roebuck approached the edge of blasted out corner. He went prone as he deployed the bipod at the front of the weapon. His broken leg would be of little hindrance if he could remain in this position. Those hostiles on the streets, it seemed now, had finally coordinated their attack on the building. They rushed forward toward every side and left the Judges to repulse an enemy on all fronts. The Judges, Roebuck deduced, must not have enough manpower to hold off an attack of this coordination and magnitude. With everyone else spread out through the building, this zone seemed lightly defended, compared to the others. Roebuck pressed the butt of the weapon into his right shoulder and gripped it with his left hand. He reached his right hand forward, pulled the bolt and cambered the first round. The weapon clicked and he was ready to fire.

A contingent of ten hostiles ran together in a group on the street. They held their weapons close, more focused on moving than firing. Roebuck sighted these hostiles and lined them up in his crosshairs. With a flick, the safety was disengaged and Roebuck squeezed the trigger. The weapon let out a fully automatic burst of fire. The rounds tore into the contingent of hostiles and cut them down. The maybe two or three left broke for cover. Roebuck quickly shifted to another target.

The massed assault on the streets below came under a fierce and deadly fire from Judge Roebuck. He cut down attacker after attacker with a deadly precision. His firing was so precise that it ground the enemy’s onrush to a halt. While his ethics on the job may have been dubious and his actions called into questions, one thing Roebuck could do was shoot.

He had picked his targets carefully, meticulously. He did not simply spray the enemy with rounds and prayed they found their mark. It was in short, controlled bursts that he fired at the enemy. He kept a continuous pressure on the hostiles, as he switched between a suppression fire and a murderous one. The bodies of the dead littered the streets. Soon, no enemy dared venture into the open. They all sought cover in the buildings across streets, or in the alleys just out of view. Every once in a while, the enemy gathered the courage to launch a massed attack with the goal to overwhelm Roebuck and break through. But, each time he hurled the hostiles back with his tenacious determination. A few Citi-Defs within the building recognized Roebuck’s efforts. They would crawl up next to Roebuck and pass him full drums of ammunition.

In rear of the building, with the cover of the alley, the hostiles had forced their way in and engaged the defenders in close quarters combat. Some had even taken to hand to hand fighting. The Judges along with their loyal Citi-Def allies fought hard to hold back the breach. They had to pull Judges who manned the line elsewhere to plug the break. This left their other positions vulnerable if the hostiles launched a coordinated effort on all sides of the building.

Roebuck noticed a large contingent of hostiles gather in the cover of an alleyway across the street. They had all ducked into cover and were safe from the bullets of the Judge’s weapons. The squad automatic weapon Roebuck had been firing was out of ammunition and need a reload. Roebuck casually passed it to a Citi-Def beside him, who had come to deliver ammunition. As the Citi-Def reloaded the weapon, Roebuck drew the lawgiver from his leg holster. He switched the ammunition setting to high explosive and took aim. One hostile across the street nervously stuck out his head from behind the corner of the alley. Roebuck smirked and fired his weapon. The round left the lawgiver followed by a long white exhaust plume. It detonated right were the hostile’s head had just scanned view. The corner of the building exploded with a ball of fire. The bits of rockcrete flew about while the screams echoed in the area. Roebuck figured he landed a direct hit.

The Judges and their loyal Citi-Defs managed to stand their ground and repulse the attackers. The hostiles had hoped their push would have been supported by a mass attack on the building’s entrance. No such attack materialized because Roebuck in his vantage point, kept them off of the streets. Without the support, the breach faltered and the Judges held out.

The battle had raged all night. The Judges held their ground against wave after wave of hostile attack. All through the night they repulsed their tenacious enemy. Roebuck was exhausted. He peered out toward the sun, as the morning light illuminated the skyline. The pain in his leg was excruciating. He had neglected it through the fighting. The thought had just occurred to him when he spotted the wreckage of the Justice Department sedan, as it smoldered on the street below in front of the building. This place had been an active crime scene. Roebuck had realized that at about this time yesterday, he and Marston were the ones who responded to the scene and found the bodies of the staff. He had not thought to question anyone about scene since. His mind wandered for a minute, as he dwelled on possible suspects for the initial crime that set the day in motion. Roebuck closed his eyes briefly. He had his arms wrapped around the squad automatic weapon in a position ready to fire. It only took a second and he slouched forward, asleep.

Roebuck opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright wave of sunlight. He looked around to get his bearings. The fighting had creased and did not again commence. Roebuck could see the reason why. On the street headed toward the building was a large contingent of Justice Department armored vehicles that stretched for several blocks. The Sectors that neighbored 288 had spent the night pulling together a joint force of Judges and Citi-Defs to relieve their beleaguered comrades. It took them until dawn to fully mobilize.

“You mother fucker!” a familiar voice called to Roebuck. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Roebuck turned his head back to see Marston standing in the doorway to what had once been this room. Marston had his left arm in a sling after apparently being shot through his left shoulder. His helmet was gone and there was large, bloody gash to the right side of his forehead.

“You look like shit,” Roebuck chuckled.

“Why the fuck can’t you just sit still?” Marston said, as he walked over and sat on some rubble next to Roebuck. “I’ve spent the last hour combing through the wounded in the medical area, only to find you’ve wandered off. Then I run into your girl, Az, who said you were here.”

“You know me better than that, Rhett. A fight of the size, did you really expect me to sit it out?”

Roebuck rolled to his side and painfully pulled himself up to seated position. He leaded his back against a remaining bit of the rockcrete wall. Marston let out a hand to help Roebuck, but he refused the help. Roebuck pulled the cigarette pack out of the pouch on his duty belt. The pack was crushed after all of the combat, but there were cigarettes inside that looked decent enough. Roebuck took one out and held the pack toward Marston, so he could take one. Marston had a lighter and lit Roebuck’s cigarette and then his own. Roebuck took a long drag and felt relaxed. These were cigarettes with actual tobacco he confiscated from a criminal, but intentionally forgot to turn them in as evidence.

“Wonder what they’ll do about the Muties now?” Marston said, blowing the smoke.

“Who the fuck cares,” was Roebuck’s response. “Deranged Cits probably slaughtered them all during the night.”

“Fucked up thing is, the same Cits that were just shooting at us, will be calling us all day tomorrow about their cat stuck in a tree or a neighbor that took something of theirs. Fucking animals.”

The last statement did not register with Roebuck. He was distracted as he looked out on the city from his vantage. Below, the armored wagons pulled up. Judges and Citi-Defs poured out to secure the street and reinforce the building. They were met by Med Judges who carried the wounded straight to the wagons. The newly arrived Judges began to clear the buildings across the street, the ones not long ago where occupied by the hostiles. Roebuck already knew they would not find anyone. The mob had long dispersed. Now that the Judges were reinforced with overwhelming firepower, the Cits could just melt away and resume their lives as if they had done nothing wrong.

“So all of this?” Roebuck said, his focus still outward. “And what was accomplished?”

“Those eggheads from major crimes did manage to figure out who killed the people in the office,” Marston said.

“They did? Well who was it?”

“You’re not going to believe this one, a futsie did it! Yeah, he used to work in the office, went batshit and killed everyone. Must’ve been pissed at his co-workers or something. In a further sweep of building, they found the guy, a few hours after we left. He was curled up in his Fordster rocking back and forth. He was parked in the alley out back.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I’m dead serious man. The major crimes Judges all get into the car with the man in custody. That’s when a rocket propelled grenade blew up their car and the perp with them, and starting all this shit.”

“I don’t fucking believe it. So this whole day and all of this shit happened because some asshole with a screw loose picked the wrong group of people to massacre? Y’know the ones whose deaths might cause trouble?”

Roebuck leaned back, a bit disgusted with everything. He continued to smoke his cigarette. Marston looked at his friend. He reached out his arm and placed his hand on Roebuck’s shoulder. In a comical manner, he smiled at Roebuck.

“Well pal,” Marston started. “You still have me. You made proud today, son.”

They both laughed and let the situation defuse. Marston stood up and held out his hand to help Roebuck. He pulled Roebuck to his feet and placed his good arm around Roebuck and Roebuck’s left arm over his shoulder. Roebuck used Marston as a crutch as the pair hobbled out of the room and toward the hallway.

***

Sector House 288

One week later:

Roebuck and Marston had been restricted to light duty because of their injuries. They were both assigned to the public affairs office of the Sector House with the job of answering citizen inquiries and addressing issues over the phone. After being there only two days, the pair figured out how to disconnect their phones and spent the days since doing nothing of value. It had been a week since the shootout in the MCLU Building. Roebuck’s broken leg was healing, but not as quickly as he had hoped. He was told, despite all the advances in medical science and the critical need to get a Street Judge back on the street, it would take about a month until he could return to duty. Marston, on the other hand, had surgery on his shoulder and was about to undergo his medial recertification the next day. Roebuck and Marston both sat in an old vacant office they had requisitioned and claimed they were using for official public affairs business. In reality, they alternated between sleeping all day and watching vids on a tri-d they installed.

The situation regarding the mutant question had taken a drastic turn. The riots in Sector 288 had ignited a firestorm of anti-mutant sentiment. All across the Big-Meg mass demonstrations were held, calling for the expulsion of all mutants. The citizens blamed the mutants for violence in Sector 288 and demanded their removal from Mega-City One. The rioting had left a wake of destruction in Sector 288, though it was mostly caused by the human citizens. Almost every store had been looted and citizens took advantage of the lawlessness to settle any scores they had with each other. During the night Roebuck and the Judges were besieged in the MCLU Building, the mob poured into Mutietown and went to work. They torched every building inhabited by mutants and murdered every mutant in sight. A few mutants banded together and barricaded themselves in efforts to hold out. These mutants fought for their lives, but with the Judges busy rescuing their own, no help came and they were overrun. Mutietown in Sector 288 ceased to exist. Roebuck and Marston both caught a lucky break when the body of Senor Lopez was discovered. The Judges all on the payroll assumed he was just another casualty of violence and did not pressed the issue, but were irate over the loss of revenue. 

In the days that followed, mutants in other parts of the city were attacked by angry mobs. The Justice Department was under increased pressure from the situation. The Judges knew they faced a repeat of the events in Sector 288; it was only a matter of time. Roebuck and Marston were both awake. It was about noon, on the 28th of June. Roebuck had the channel turned to the Brit-Cit Broadcasting Corporation. He preferred the BCBC over the local media conglomerate, the North Meg Media Service. The NMMS was famous for its special brand of yellow journalism, while BCBC presented the truthful facts, in an educated and somber tone. Roebuck and Marston had turned to the news channel as they, along with the rest of the city, expected to hear the Grand Hall Justice’s decision about mutant expulsion. The Chief Justice as scheduled to read the Council’s decision on live tri-d. The familiar introduction tone of the news programme began, as the presenter appeared on screen. A female newscaster began to speak in her distinct Brit-Cit accent:

“This is the BCBC World Service, and here is today’s top headline. The Chief Justice of Mega-City One is expected to deliver the Council of Five’s decision regarding the mutant situation in the next few minutes. Recent outbreaks of violence in the Big Meg have prompted the Justice Department to debate whether individuals with mutations will be allowed to reside within the City. If the decision to expel is announced, then it will be the first ruling of its kind in the world. We now take you live to the Grand Hall of Justice in Mega-City One.”

The camera cut to the press room inside the Grand Hall. There was an empty podium in front of a gigantic eagle portrait, the logo of the Justice Department. The room was packed with reporters. They all jumped to their feet with cameras and microphones extended, as the Chief Justice, flanked by aides, entered the room. The Chief Justice assumed his place at the podium and began to speak.

“My fellow citizens of Mega-City One,” the Chief Justice began. “I come before you today, to deliver the verdict on the situation concerning the mutant inhabitation within the City. We will not stand to have our citizens terrorized by these mutants who, after the events in Sector 288, clearly demonstrate they are willing to use any means of violence to achieve their ends. Therefore, it is the decision of the Council of Five that we expel, forcefully if necessary, all individuals with unnatural mutations.”

The Chief Justice paused and the room erupted. The reports all jumped to their feet and started pressing the Chief Justice with questions. Though, the reporters all spoke at once and were thus incomprehensible. Roebuck turned the vid off. Marston began to laugh a bit.

“Guess it’s moving day,” Roebuck said.

“Guess so,” Marston replied.

The two Judges returned to what they were up to before the news announcement. Marston fell asleep while Roebuck pulled out his combat knife and carved markings on the table out of idleness. He did not dwell much on the mutants. All of the Judges expected the mutants were going to be expelled from the Big Meg sooner or later. The relocation to “Mutietowns” within derelict Sectors was just a show for the international community and humane groups. The Justice Department waited for the excuse to kick them out, and it was finally presented.

***

Epilogue:

The Justice Department acted immediately after the Chief Justice’s announcement of the expulsions. Under the relocation program, the Justice Department had already gathered the names and addresses of almost every mutant in Mega-City One. The data had been collected over several years under the guise of medical research for a cure, protection for mutant citizens, and offers of paid relocations to safe zones within the City. Judges went in at night, into the homes of the mutants and made the arrests. This happened citywide over the course of several nights. It actually turned out to be one of the most effective and secretive operations the Justice Department had managed to launch, with no leaks to the press or miscommunications of orders. The mutants were rounded up and brought to the Sector Houses. At the end of the week, all manners of transportation were requisitioned, city busses, school busses, large container trucks, and Pat-Wagons. The mutants were packed onto these vehicles, often with just the clothes on their backs, and driven to the city wall.

Heavily armed Judges greeted the mutants at the gates that divided Mega-City One from the Cursed Earth. The mutants were forced, at gunpoint, into the Cursed Earth with no provisions and no sympathy by the Judges. A few desperate mutants attempted to run back through the gates and into the City, but they were shot dead by the all too eager Judges. In an act of callousness, a contingent of pro-mutant supporters, who arrived to protest the act, was forced out of the City by the Judges. And so, on July the 4th, 2089, Mega-City One celebrated its independence from mutants, as the last busload was forced out of the City gates.


End file.
